Dead Tired: Back to the Wellness Clinic

Last week, I wrote about how much of an idiot I was. This week, I shall reinforce that sentiment with a tiny bit of leeway though.

First off, I don’t know what the fuck I am doing anymore. Oh, and yes there might be some language in this post so cover your virgin ears if you’re sensitive about that.

I have fallen down a very, very deep rabbit hole, again. And although this time around, I can still get up and have actually found the energy to write something, I honestly had to force my body to move.

So, what’s happened?, asked no one.

At times it feels like being me is like screaming into an empty void with nothing but an echo coming back to me. Or did I just describe Twitter?

I don’t want to say that it’s only the last week that I’ve been battling because that is pure horseshit. The truth is I have been battling for months. I’ve been battling to get up in the morning, at times I don’t even get up, I miss my alarms and then make something up to not get in trouble at work and I don’t think twice and the real reason is, because, deep down, God, I’m a miserable fuck. There has been so much noise in my head since I left the wellness clinic the last time and for anyone that actually follows me beside’s the Karma god of divine justice, you would know that I have dabbled in a few affairs the last year.

Christ, I tried Youtube, that was the longest three or four months of my life. Respect to YouTubers who actually have a job and do Youtube and do it well. The editing on my side just took way too long and my O.C.D would kick in and everything just kind of fell flat because I burned myself out. I engaged on Twitter and while there are some nice people, it really can be a negative space and it seems to me that no matter how often I ask for help on Twitter or Instagram for that matter, all I hear is crickets. Except for Eric, Justin, Switch. Crankage and Cory They’re cool.

I had this theory because I don’t have many followers by social media standards, oh and side note, I think having 600 followers on Twitter and 800 followers on Instagram is still pretty cool but If I could get $1 from each follower from only one of these social media platforms, then I’m covered for a month. It buys me time. Then reality hits home that follower numbers don’t mean shit really. There are probably five people spread out across the social networks that actually converse with me.

Why do you need time, again?, Nobody asked.

Because your Uncle GT is heading straight back to the mental health place in an attempt to rewire my brain again, break the cycle of negativity and bad thoughts, that are constantly swarming in my head and just by the way, no matter how deep I breathe or how often I repeat this mantra of It Will Pass“, “It Will Pass, well it does pass, right after it fucks me up and leaves yet another seed of doubt, leaving it to grow and fester like a plague on both your houses like in that one, Shakespeare story that I don’t really remember.

So, I think I’ve been frustrated for a very long time. I almost lost my girlfriend with my last break and that prompted me to hop on a plane and win her back with a verse of I can change, I can change!

How romantic!, Hollywood cried!

Fun-fact, every romance movie that you see where the guy or girl drops their entire life to be with that one person because their brain chemicals have now decided that, They’re the one!

Yeah, I got news for you. They’re all mentally fucking ill. (Except The Notebook, don’t you dare rag on the notebook)

(yeah, yeah, I’m a guy and I liked this movie. In fact, I like romantic-movies so…i have no more words)

Honestly and objectively, I have changed since then, I am better in our relationship, less clingy, less insecure and now that I think about it, I think she may have gotten more clingy which I don’t mind. My wires are so crossed I think clingy-ness equals love and honestly, I don’t mind those wires being crossed.

With that rant out of the way, I have been frustrated and if I do something that I think is wrong, whether in my relationships or at a client, man, I really go to town on myself even though I logically know it’s not that big of a deal. But my emotions, which are sentient at this point tell me otherwise and who am I to actually disagree with myself?

Frustrations like that mounting, really not liking my job, in fact, hating my job and most of my clients and dealing with pithy people on a daily basis, always angry, always stressing, fuck. It just, I guess it just took a toll on me that I didn’t realize.

And I tried to deal, I really did, I meditated, I went for walks, hell, my significant other and I started jogging at one point and despite what EVERYBODY tells you, it makes you feel like absolute shit. Phone chimes in with a You’ve reached your goal.” and I’m supposed to be happy with the fact that I just tortured myself? Fuck-off. AND, I swear to God, I was getting fat while I was jogging, so what’s up with that?

Couple that in with some random bad-luck (Karma God from my past life, I’m convinced of this) it got to a point where I knew I wasn’t going to be able to take it any longer. I really battled getting up to go to work and then at some point my BFF dumped me. Which, I guess I took kind of hard. My therapist was convinced that he was my person.  In psychology talk, the person to keep me on the straight and narrow. ( I just realized that could also be a homosexual joke which it totally isn’t)

He started to get into fitness which isn’t really my thing but I tried jogging, (this was actually when I started jogging) because it’s good for you and then one night he came over and I had had a bad day and you know there are times when you appreciate someone giving you a reality check or just trying to give you some optimism or a new way to look at your situation, silver-lining if you will. But, then there are times where you just need a buddy to listen to you bitch and moan and talk some shit. You don’t have to reassure me, just hang-out with me.

Well for nearly one full hour he did not read the room, going on about how my mental outlook on life is too negative and I need to exercise and……………………………………

Yeah, I can’t even finish that. While I really do appreciate the sentiment which was said I might add, all I needed was my bud. He left after a while and I guess our relationship just kind of stalled. We had one more night together when we watched Into The Spider-Verse (great flick, btw). We enjoyed it and that was the last I saw of him.

I think, two months later, I asked if he could loan me some cash so I could fix my car, which again if anyone knows me… A Lannister always pays his debts“.”

(My god, Peter Dinklage looks young here. The crap writing must have aged him)

But with my friend, I’ve always paid him back when that was the arrangement. He said he would get back to me and he never did. A few months prior we made arrangements to see Avengers End Game at IMAX but because I wasn’t doing mentally well and my work commission was starting to suffer, I sent him a message saying that I don’t think we can do IMAX and this is maybe, three weeks since I had my car fixed, he said he would get back to me. He never did. From that point, it started to feel like a dead relationship, that I didn’t really mean anything to him anymore and if that’s the case, then I’m not going to chase him. If that is his path, I’ll still be here if he gets back.

That has been in my head though because he was pretty much the only friend I’ve ever had, a person I could really lean on heavily for support. Maybe he got tired of that, I don’t know.

So fast-forward a little bit and on Monday or Tuesday night this week, fuckers broke into my car and for some fucking reason stole a little envelope which had my license in it. If you live in South Africa, you know that getting a new license fucking sucks. And it would be the second time this year already that I would need to replace it. Funnily, enough, that was the straw that broke me.

I remember getting into this whirlwind, this flurry of anxious, depressive thoughts, voices that were so loud in my head. I started to panic and I looked everywhere for this little piece of, shit envelope, thinking that maybe I had misplaced it, which I didn’t. I remember crying like a baby, feeling my psyche crack, like those dramatic anime moments, where a single shard of glass falls slowly and just breaks into teeny, tiny pieces?

Yeah, I felt, like the molecule in between those pieces except I could feel every bump, every crack, every graze that was just crashing to the floor.

The next day, I physically could not get out of bed. I was, beat, man. It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to my soul. I just heard these whispers in my head, saying it’s safer in bed and me, being so tired of fighting, I gave in. I’ve never been so beat to the point where I couldn’t physically get out of bed, where my will-power was so low that it was almost non-existent.

Quite honestly, it was at some point during the evening, just before my significant other got home from work that I had a thought, about ending it. I had broken down before, emotionally, and now as I was laying there in my bed, crampy, from being in bed all day, smelly, from not having showered in days and yet still no will to get up and do something about it. Somewhere, deep down, inside my own head, I could hear yelling, Get up! Do something!, I just couldn’t. The only thing that I could muster enough energy to do was to slit my wrists. However, I didn’t, couldn’t. I’m not intentionally suicidal. If I happened to die that’s one thing but intentional, no.

When my S.O. came home, she convinced me to get out of bed. I don’t know if it was because she was worried and I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t stressing too much which is a very tall order because she does stress, she just doesn’t show it as well as I do. She decided to buy us takeaways and of course being an anxious, depressive, I’m always up for take-aways. I was eating my feelings and it tasted good, the only problem, is that then the feeling ends once you’re done.

Over the next few days it became apparent that my job was getting more than a little annoyed by my mental health problems and to save us both some time, I decided to quit, except actually asked if they would fire or retrench me as then I can claim U.I.F which isn’t much but it is something. Yes, I know, pretty much just quitting is a bad idea but I’d rather be fucking sane. That place just causes way too much stress and I’ve got a few feelers open and I’m doing some freelance stuff and will only see at the end of the month if it’s enough to get by. I feel like I need to be doing something else, not just for my sanity but something I want to do.

Today, I have officially been booked into St. Marks, our local wellness clinic. I feel like I have already quit my job even though no one has actually gotten back to me so does that make it a moot point? (or a moo point?) I’m telling jokes, this is a good moment it seems.


I have done more which I will share with you in another post. If you are enjoying the pain and misery that I go through and are kind enough to keep me afloat until I get settled that would be very much appreciated. I do virtual photography on Instagram (which I’m still not interested in debating).

I have a short story novel interactive thing on which you can play/read down here. I’d like to keep doing some more things of that nature, I just need to find someone who is willing to create some art to go with it.

If you like any of these things and want to help me get by I would appreciate it. You can call it begging, but I’m actually just asking for help and in return, I shall share some of my joy via email or text.


4 thoughts on “Dead Tired: Back to the Wellness Clinic

  1. Yo Ryan,

    Danny here aka SwitchUnderground. This sure is a deep dive into the current state of things isn’t it? I don’t know if I’d ever be able to nail down so much detail with my mental struggles. It is way too all over the place. But you have made it digestible, easy to read and understand… I watched Iron Man recently and he has that one scene in the shop with Jarvis, “Give me an exploded view…” of the car engine. I feel like you have done that with your brain here.

    To that end … it is almost like a list of things to figure out. Do you share these blog posts with your therapist?


    1. Hey Danny thanks man. Yeah, i appreciate the kind words. Looks like i have learnt a little from my first visit to the clinic. But yes, i wasn’t sure if the all over the place structure would work but i was about to have an attack and just started writing and thinking about it. I think i should share this with my therapist. There are things that i forget to tell her.


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